Dirty Maverick (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  He smiled and traced the outline of my lips with his fingers. It was one of those intimate gestures that I was coming to love so much.

  “I really want us to work out too. I’m going to do my best.”

  “So am I.” I told him. He gave me another amazing kiss before I left. I love the way he makes me feel and I really believe that even if it doesn’t last forever between us, my life will be better for having met and spent time with him.

  As I was driving home, I passed the Fox theatre. It’s a really old, historical theatre and the only thing they do there anymore is show old black and white movies…some of them were made even before there was sound. Emma and I used to hang out there in the days before we were old enough to date or drive. After we got old enough to do other things, we made a standing date with each other on the tenth of every month no matter what…we went and watched a movie together. Dates or any other tag- a-longs were not allowed. Once we started college that kind of went by the wayside. We talked about how much we missed doing it…but neither of us ever seemed to find the time. It dawned on me suddenly that it was the tenth of the month.

  Without giving it any more thought than that, I pulled into the almost empty lot. It was always almost empty, even when it wasn’t late evening and in the middle of the week. I think the city owns it now and they don’t care if they made money off of it or not. It was just one of those historical icons that they left in place to keep the historical societies from raining heat down on them. I parked in the lot and went up to the ticket-booth. I had to smile when I saw what was playing. Sometimes I had to believe that Emma was still around, leading me places. The movie was the Prisoner of Zenda. It was a movie made in 1937…long before our parents were born even. But for some reason, it was Emma’s favorite. She used to say it was the most romantic movie ever made. My vote went out to Gone With the Wind, but this one was perfect for tonight. I asked the kid in the booth for a ticket.

  “It’s almost over.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve seen it a bunch of times. The ending is my favorite part.”

  He raised an eyebrow like he thought I was a little weird, but he took my money and gave me a ticket. I bought a box of Junior mints, Emma’s other favorite and I went inside the dark theater and found a seat near the back. I was one of only four people in the whole place. An elderly couple sat near the front. She had her head on his shoulder and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was remembering back to when they were young. There was a middle aged man sitting not too far from them. He was all alone…like me.

  I looked up at the screen at Douglas Fairbanks. Emma always found him so appealing. It was hard for me to look at a man from the thirties and find him attractive. Today as I looked at him instead of seeing him, I saw my best friend’s smiling face. It was what I needed to top off an already wonderful day with Ian. While the movie played, my thoughts switched to Ian and what it would be like to be in a real relationship with him. I was sure that was what I wanted and he seemed to want it to. Maybe our “rough start” got all the kinks worked out already and it would be smooth sailing from here on out.

  I was dragging my feet about going home and talking to dad. I had to talk to him, there would be no getting out of it. I was too happy when I was with Ian to let my dad’s unsolicited opinions get in the way. I know that he loves me, but he needed to learn how to love me differently as an adult than he had as a child. I popped a junior mint in my mouth and thought about the last time he did this to me. I was a senior in high school and there was a guy named Rob that I really liked. He was gorgeous and funny and smart and we had a bunch of classes together. After about a month of flirting, he finally asked me out. He showed up that Friday night to pick me up and Dad was polite to him as he could manage. It wasn’t warm politeness…but it was friendly enough. When we left, I was breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn’t done anything to ruin it.

  We went out to dinner and then a movie. He was sweet and respectful and he made me feel good about myself. We took a walk through the park after the movie and he held my hand. He didn’t try to get into my pants like other guys always did at that age. He was perfect. He took me home and gave me a sweet kiss at the door. He told me he would call and maybe we could go to lunch or something on Sunday. I thought about him every second the rest of the weekend…but when lunch time on Sunday came and went and he hadn’t called, I started feeling horrible…about myself. I started going over everything I said and did, wondering where I’d gone wrong. I picked up the phone to call him at least a dozen times, but I didn’t have that kind of confidence. I finally called Emma…who I’d talked to about how amazing he was for an hour the day before and I broke down in tears.

  Emma was at my house in fifteen minutes and we sat in the back yard and talked. Her advice to me was that he wasn’t worth my time if he couldn’t even be bothered to call and cancel. “You’re better than that Alexa. You deserve more respect than that. Don’t sell yourself short, honey.”

  “If I’m as good as you tell me I am, why does this keep happening to me?”

  “If I remember correctly, last time you found out that your dad scared him off. That wasn’t your fault. Your dad was nice this time though, you said, right?”

  “Yeah, I mean…as nice as Dad can force himself to be to one of my dates.”

  “You don’t think he ran into him or called him or something, do you?” She had a point. The last guy had run into my dad at the supermarket. Dad had promptly told him that he wasn’t good enough for me and he shouldn’t come back around. He didn’t, but he did tell me at school one day finally why he was avoiding me. Feeling fired up, I jumped up and ran in the house, calling for my dad. He came out of the bedroom and said, “What’s wrong?”

  “You tell me, Daddy. Have you talked to Rob?”

  “Oh pumpkin, I’m sorry. He called last night while you were in the shower. You’d left your phone on the counter so I…”

  “Oh my God!” I grabbed my phone and started looking through it. Sure enough, Rob had called the night before. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Why are you yelling at me?”

  “Daddy! I’m going to ask him so you may as well come clean. What did you do?”

  “I just asked him where he planned on going to school and about his parents….”

  Oh God! Rob told me his dad left them when he was little. His Mom remarried twice since then. In my father’s eyes, that would be an “unstable” influence. “What did you say to him, Daddy?” I was in tears.

  “I just told him I worried about where he came from and that I wanted better for you than that.” Poor Emma had been a silent witness to my wrath.

  “You have to stop trying to control my life or the second I turn eighteen I will leave and never come back! He was the nicest boy I’ve ever been out with. Would you prefer I went out with the ones who try and attack me on the first date?”

  “I just think maybe you should just concentrate on your studies for now. There will be plenty of time for you to meet boys in college…..”

  Frustrated, I’d turned to Emma and said, “Please get me out of here.” She’d taken me to her house and I’d cried most of the night. The next day at school, Rob wouldn’t even look at me. The worst part was that he told all of his friends about my Dad. I didn’t have another date my entire senior year.

  I looked up at the screen and realized the movie had stopped. With a sigh I pushed myself up. I had to go home and talk to him. I didn’t want to fight with him, but I had to do this. I wasn’t going to lose Ian too.

  Chapter Three

  Ian

  After Alexa left I was antsy. I was really glad that she wasn’t mad at me anymore. I was afraid I’d blown it again when I told her about her dad at first. I couldn’t help but wonder how that conversation was going to go. I couldn’t help but worry about how her dad was going to react when she told him that not only did she know what he’d told me…but that she wanted to keep seeing me. I believed what she sa
id about him being this way because of her mom…but I also worried that maybe some of it was that he really didn’t like me either. I wouldn’t win first prize in an “I’d love for you to date my daughter” contest. What I’d told her was true too…I didn’t meet many dads. I wasn’t a dater. Every so often I’d be seeing a girl like Kristy who would attach themselves to me and insist they were my girlfriend, but the truth was, I didn’t do girlfriends or dates….until Alexa. I suddenly wanted her to be my girlfriend. And I suddenly wanted to be good enough for her and her father. Maybe after my championship fight tomorrow. If I win that one, endorsements and offers from UFC were sure to follow. Maybe if I was in a “legitimate” occupation, albeit still using my fists that would be at least one redeeming quality.

  I tried to finish the movie, but I couldn’t sit still. I finally ended up getting dressed and heading out to the gym. I didn’t usually go the night before a fight. The last thing I wanted was an injury that would prevent me from fighting. Especially this fight. It was too important. I had to get out of the apartment though. I would make sure not to overdo it, but I had to do something to work off some of this nervous energy or I’d never get any sleep tonight. There weren’t many people around at the gym at this time of night, so that was good. I liked when it was quiet and I could focus. Too many “Strongmen” and “Gym bunnies” gave it a bar atmosphere that pissed me off when I was trying to seriously work out.

  I started out with some stretches and lunges and then I took out a rope and jumped for about fifteen minutes. I rested for five, got some water and then I moved over to the speed bag.

  I got under the bag and with my hands open and close to the bag, I started hitting in small circles, letting my hand travel in circles through the air between each strike. Right, right, left, left….I got into a rhythm and I did that for about three minutes. I rested for one and did it again for another three. I was about to go again when I heard, “Ian, what the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home sitting on your ass eating pasta.” It was Dean, my trainer. I turned to look at him, knowing I was caught red-gloved. He was a big one for resting the night before a big fight.

  “Hey Dean. Sorry, I was just a little antsy tonight. I needed to clear my head and get some of this energy out or I’ll never be able to sleep tonight. That’ll be worse, right?”

  “I guess. Don’t over-do it though. This is your big chance man. The scouts will be out in full-force. You don’t want to have to cancel it because you pulled a muscle or something stupid.”

  “I know,” I told him. “I’m not going to blow this. I just seriously couldn’t relax tonight.”

  Dean sighed and said, “How about some pad training…light!”

  “Sounds good,” I told him. He went and got the pads while I put on my gloves.

  “Okay, three minutes, alternate hands, go!”

  I hit the pad with a cross then a jab, a hook and uppercut and I switched hands and did it again. I switched up and did the one-two fashion, focusing on striking the pad dead center each time. I went in fast and hard for the last minute, just concentrating on my jabs. When the alarm on Dean’s watch sounded I finished up with an uppercut.

  He had me rest for a full two minutes and then we started again. This time he moved the pads, up, down and side-to-side as I threw the punches. We did another three minute round, a one minute rest this time and we did it again. On the fourth one he said, “This is the last one, then you go home and rest, okay kid?”

  “Yep,” I agreed. I didn’t know about the rest part, but I’d go home. I’ll rest better if I hear from Alexa and I know that all is well with her and her dad.

  I finished the work-out and thanked Dean. He reminded me again how big tomorrow’s fight was. I tried not to get annoyed with him. It was really his night too and if I won, it would be a win for him. He’d been the one that took the time to teach me what I needed to know, going so far as to scare me “straight” about the doping. He’d seen a lot of it before he went to prison and even while he was there. He told me a lot of horror stories about it that gave me nightmares. He was the one that taught me how to take care of my body without putting anything artificial in it. I hoped he knew how much I appreciated all that he’d done for me. If I ever did make it big, I was taking him with me as far as he wanted to go.

  I took a quick shower in the locker room and after I got dressed I let myself check the phone again. Nothing. Damn. I wanted to call her, but I forced myself to leave it alone for now. The last thing I’d want to do is interrupt her in the middle of that conversation. I got in the car and went home. It was late and I really needed to at least try and sleep. I got there, downed another bottle of water and headed for bed. I checked the phone one more time…still no call. I sat it down on the nightstand and took off my shoes and pulled off my shirt. I double checked that the ringer was on and then I lay down. I reached for it again and finally just sent her a text:

  “Hey, sorry to bug. I just wanted to make sure all was okay.”

  I sat there and stared at it. Less than a minute went by and she text back:

  “Everything is fine. Thank you for worrying.” It was followed by a little smiley face. I guess that meant I should stop worrying. I suddenly realized that I was exhausted. A lot of good sex and a little bit of working out makes Ian a tired boy. I settled down into my bed, closed my eyes and was out in minutes.

  Chapter Four

  Alexa

  I realized when the movie ended and I still didn’t go straight home that my “feet dragging” was getting ridiculous. What was I afraid of? Was I afraid that he would say something that had a point to it and make me not be with Ian? Or, did I just really not want to argue with him tonight? I stopped at the ice cream parlor that Emma and I used to go to on our “date” nights and instead of ordering my favorite kind, I ordered hers. I was stalling, but I was also healing. I was beginning to accept that Emma was gone…slowly. I was able to do that without being constantly in tears by doing things like this to keep her memories alive…and talking to Ian about her. Spending time with Ian helped a lot. But that was definitely not all it was about anymore, so I decided that I needed to do things like this on my own.

  I ate my ice cream slowly, taking a short walk as I did. The night was warm and the moon was almost full, if I hadn’t had the problems with Dad on my mind, it would have been really enjoyable. I finally forced myself back to my car and ended up at home. I was about half way there when Ian sent me a text asking if everything was okay. I thought it was sweet that he was worried about me. I told him things were fine, although I hadn’t talked to Dad yet. I was trying to let myself be confident that I would be. I parked the car and noticed the lights were still on. I walked into the house and even though it was late, I wasn’t surprised to find Dad up in the living room…pretending to read. It was what he’d been doing since I was fifteen years old. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was even the same book. He looked up at me as if the time had gotten away from him and said, “Oh, there you are.” He glanced at the clock, not even subtly and said, “I hadn’t heard from you. I wasn’t sure you were coming home tonight.”

  The guilt trip. Good move, Dad. “Sorry. I guess I should have texted. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

  “Where have you been?”

  Here goes, “With Ian,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. He was in the recliner and he snapped down the leg rest and sat up straight. “I know that you tried to get him to dump me, Daddy. That’s not cool. I thought we were finished with all of this back when I was in high school.”

  He sighed. I could tell by the look on his face that he was pissed…probably at Ian. He had a lot of nerve to do something like that and then be mad at Ian for telling me. He wouldn’t have to worry about it if he would just stop.

  “I didn’t say, “Dump,” he said. “Did he say I said, “dump”? Because if he did…”

  “Stop it, Dad. Stop trying to turn this around on him. You were in the wrong and you know it. You told hi
m to leave me alone, completely. You told him to walk away and break my heart now instead of in the future. You know how much I like him. I don’t know why you would do that.”

  “Because he’s not good for you,” he said. “He is going to break your heart whether it’s tomorrow or next month.”

  I tried to keep my voice steady and not let my emotions get involved in this just yet as I said, “Daddy, I mean no disrespect to you when I say this. I love you and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and continue to do for me. But I’m a grown woman. You can’t tell people to stay away from me because you’re afraid I’m going to get hurt. Ian is not Mom. But if by some cosmic twist of fate he turns out to be, getting hurt is part of life and I have to learn how to deal with getting hurt just like any other adult. It’s part of life…part of growing up. What you’re doing is driving a wedge between you and me by trying to control my life. I can’t stand that. You’re making me not want to be here.”

  “I’m doing that?” he said, angrily. “I’m trying to protect you. That’s more than I can say for a man who takes advantage of a girl who is grieving.”

  “He didn’t and is not taking advantage of me! We leaned on each other to deal with losing Emma…but it turned into more than that. He didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not angry with Ian about this. I’m angry with you.”

  “That figures. But that’s okay Alexa, I’m used to it. I figured he’d be a wimp about it and tell you anyways. I bet he just couldn’t wait.”

  “Actually Daddy, he tried not to. He was rude and dismissive and for two days he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. I wouldn’t leave it alone. He finally broke down and told me and then apologized and felt bad for you. I hope that makes you feel bad. You’re sitting here calling him names and he was defending you and your motives for doing this. It makes me furious.”